


Forged

by rustingroses



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Politics, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustingroses/pseuds/rustingroses
Summary: Sandry comes to Daja for some help regarding Duke Vedris' heir, and Daja provides some support.





	Forged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kkslover9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkslover9/gifts).



Daja's forge is bright and airy, but it's still a forge. There's traces of soot and smoke everywhere and although it's neatly organized, clean is not the word Daja would use to describe it. So when Sandry flounces in wearing all her finery, temper blooming in her cheeks, Daja's first response is to sigh and gesture to the cloth that she's resorted to tucking away near the door, for whenever one of her circle decides that they simply cannot wait for her to finish her work before demanding her attention. Sandry reaches out a hand imperiously and the cloth leaps to her grip—oh, Oti log it, she's not simply in a temper, she's almost definitely in a temper about something that's occurred at Duke Vedris' palace, which means _politics_.

Namorn soured Daja on all politics, and worse, she can never think of Namorn these days without thinking of Rizu before even Nia and Jory.

She deliberately directs her attention back to her work, but keeps an eye on Sandry, who shakes the cloth twice so that even the minutest traces of dirt it couldn't help but accumulate drop to the ground. She drapes it over the chair that's placed near the door to take advantage of the cool spring air. Although Sandry is practically vibrating, instead of sitting she prowls around the room until Daja directs her attention to the bellows outside. "Just for a minute or so," she requests, and Sandry stalks out in a swirl of skirts. Daja rolls her eyes but Sandry works the bellows properly, gradually adding more air, and Daja stands by the fire patiently as the metal changes color in the increased heat.

Satisfied, she touches the bond between them to say, _That's good, thank you_. Even the bare minute's work pumping the bellows has significantly increased the temperature in the forge, and Sandry immediately lifts up her hair and tries to fan at her neck the moment she's back inside. Daja moves towards Sandry, unbothered by the heat, and leans against the table near the window. She tilts her head, flexing her metal-coated hand absently. "Well? I know that look. What's Lord Wyvern-Face done this time?"

Sandry's chin comes up. "Lord _Wybern_ has raised the issue of inheritance once again." She pauses and wrinkles her nose. "Am I really that obvious?" she adds, pouting a little. "I know you didn't take a peek with the bond."

Daja snorts. "I don't need to. The only person that seems to make you fly into a temper these days when it comes to politics is old Wyvern-Face, because he's the only one you can't consistently counter."

"It's because he's got a _point_ ," Sandry stresses, and finally drops into the chair, rubbing a little at her forehead. "I love Uncle Vedris, but he deserves the chance to retire without being afraid that his death would make Franzen the duke. He keeps hinting that he's got a plan in mind and not to worry about it just yet, but..."

"But you're worrying about it anyways." Daja smiles and shakes her head. "Your uncle has survived politics for a long time. If he says he's got a plan in mind, he's got one. Franzen's an idiot, and the only people who would want him inheriting the duchy are the kind of people who can't be trusted anyways." She considers the problem for a moment. "And there's no way to convince Gospard to leave the navy?"

Sandry shrugs. "He'd probably leave if it was him or Franzen, but he's _good_ at what he does. Emelan is better served having him as a fleet admiral than a reluctant ruler. Besides, he loathes the intrigue and although he would make an attempt, unless I want to spend all my days guiding him like a child, it's best that he sticks to what he's good at."

"And you..." Daja tries to think of a way to phrase it delicately, but it's something that Daja, Tris, and Briar have discussed only amongst themselves. Sandry could easily take over as Duchess, if she wanted, and Daja suspects that Vedris would find that to be a satisfactory conclusion to the matter.

"No," Sandry interjects firmly. " _No_."

Namorn has soured them all for politics, it seems.

"That only leaves a few people. Some distant relatives and..." Daja trails off again and crosses her arms over her chest, studying Sandry. She sits straight-backed in the chair, and she really would be a magnificent duchess. Sunlight pours in through the open door and a light breeze rustles both their clothing but Sandry is unmoved. Daja had once heard Sandry's uncle likened to a stone monolith, and Sandry has the very same steel in her spine, the same furious, uncompromising tenacity.

"Colederran. Yes."

"Did you ever meet him, before he left? Well—was exiled?"

The steel doesn't diminish but she bites her lip. "Once or twice, but not that I can remember. I wasn't much more than a toddler when we met. As for why?" Sandry answers Daja's unspoken question, "Uncle doesn't like to talk about it, says it's best left private for now. I know the court gossip, of course, but it's been more than a decade and every retelling grows more fanciful. Uncle wouldn't have sent him away unless matters were dire, though some of the stories are rather more fantastical than I'm willing to swallow. I wish I had a better idea of what Uncle has planned, he so rarely keeps secrets from me," she frets.

"You know we'll help you," Daja says abruptly. "Whatever solution he proposes, whatever you need—we'll help you." She crosses the distance between them and takes Sandry's hands in her own. Neither of them care that Daja's fingers are filthy, only that they're warm and steady. "For your sake, and for his." She finds herself smiling despite everything, feeling strangely like she's swearing some sort of fealty. _It's always the four of us, after all, isn't it?_

Sandry's eyes glimmer with a laugh, bright blue as they pick up the sunlight. _Yes. And I'm lucky for it, Daja_.

"I'm glad," Daja says aloud. "That means you'll help me with the bellows until Tris gets back then, right?"

The laugh in Sandry's eyes leaves her mouth and Daja grins at her. "Let me find something to change in to, alright?" She kisses Daja's cheek. "I really do have the most amazing family," she murmurs. _Even if they do have the most awful habit of putting me to work to distract me from my temper._

Daja's laugh follows Sandry out of the forge.  


**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoy!


End file.
